Unlike the day before, Arabella didn't have the urge to scream. She did not know whether it was because she was still emotionally drained from yesterday, or if it was because the ghost had made her breakfast.

She dated Richard for 4 years, had been engaged to him for 2 months, and he had never prepared a meal for her.

James, on the other hand, had peppered his apology with some toast and scrambled eggs.

If Mrs. Rothschild wasn't snoring on the couch behind her, she would have thought that the old lady had prepared it for her and passed it off as one of the friendly deeds of the ghost.

Deep in the pit of her stomach, Arabella somehow knew that the ghost was speaking to her, and he earnestly wanted to make amends.

"James," she whispered, testing the name on her lips as she wondered how she would explain this to her mother. Hey mom, I made a new friend in New York. He cooks in my apartment, but no one can really see him...

Arabella bit on the toast and took a spoonful of eggs. It tasted like real food.

Maybe having an imaginary friend would not be so bad after all.

She looked around, the hairs on her head starting to tingle from the awareness of being watched. "Are you here?" She swallowed, not entirely sure if she could readily accept inanimate objects moving on their own this early in the morning.

"If you're here, can you let me know really subtly that you can hear me," she whispered under her breath as she silently observed the kitchen.

There was a soft click behind her.

She whirled around to check where the sound came from and saw that the magnets had now been rearranged.

"YES," they read.

Arabella stared at the word for a long time and wondered if maybe she was going insane. Was there a mental disorder for people who started seeing things that weren't there?

"Will you harm me?" She closed her eyes for a moment, dreading the answer to the question as much as she dreaded asking it aloud.

A soft click. She opened her eyes and the refrigerator magnets read, "NO."

Arabella had never believed in ghosts. Before today, she never had any reason to. But as she stared at the magnets, she realized that maybe there were a great many supposedly known truths and facts about the world that may not necessarily be accurate.

She moved to shuffle through drawers for a pad and pen, but only found a marker. She brought the marker out of the drawer and walked up to her bedroom to find paper. When she got back to the kitchen, the Scrabble letters were already rearranged in a message.

CAN'T WRITE YET

She placed the pad gently on the counter and wondered what that meant. "Why can't you write? How can you not write when you can cook?"

She waited a moment, but there wasn't any movement on the Scrabble box. She decided to leave, but before her foot could move away from its position, she felt a soft breeze envelop her.

Arabella stopped all movement and stared at the corner where the marker was gently being lifted.

If he was lifting the marker on that corner counter, and she was standing behind one of the counters, that meant that James was right beside her.

She shivered, secretly scared but also thrilled at this new discovery. Who knew that ghosts existed, let alone were able to communicate with humans?

"Do you need the board?" Arabella struggled to remember what it was called. "The one with the glass?"

The marker dropped immediately, and the Scrabble pieces rearranged themselves.

NO NEED. DANGEROUS.

"Oh." Arabella was fearfully surprised. Great. Apparently, there were rules for this.

The marker started to rise again, this time a little higher, and then encountered the paper. The pointed tip scratched the surface and began drawing a wobbly line.

Watching for a few more moments, Arabella guessed that James was trying to draw an "A."

It took him approximately 32 years to get a single letter down. How were they going to converse this way?

"This is not going to work, is it?"

NO

The Scrabble box was quickly becoming their favorite mode of communication.

"Arabella?"

She whipped her head around to see Mrs. Rothschild, drunk in the last traces of sleep as she tried to stand up from the couch. She stretched her back and as some bones made popping sounds, Arabella went over to assist the old lady.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Hmm?"

"GOOD MORNING! WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE SOME BREAKFAST?"

Mrs. Rothschild smiled at her and shook her head. She walked to the door and glanced over at the Scrabble box. "I'm going home to sleep on a bed. You can keep the Scrabble. I see it has been useful to you."

With a final wave, Mrs. Rothschild pulled the door lever and left the apartment.

Arabella faced the kitchen counter again and generously bit on the toast. She didn't notice how long she had been staring at the empty space while slowly chewing on her breakfast. They—her and James—needed to communicate.

Although the tiles of the Scrabble box were helpful, it could only give them a few words at a time.

She looked around for an idea, but when she didn't find anything, James started moving the tiles again.

I NEED A FAVOR

"You need a favor? Is that why you've been breaking my eggs?"

YES. I AM STUCK.

What? Arabella's nose wrinkled in confusion, her brows meeting on her forehead as she tried to think of other ways that this would be easier for them both. "You'll need to explain this further. What do you mean you're stuck? Can't you move around?"

She stared at the apartment walls and wondered if any of the movie's depictions held any shred of truth. Don't ghosts move through walls?

Arabella felt another soft cold breeze surrounding her, and in an instant, it was gone, brushing off her skin and moving to the living room.

On the coffee table, a magazine was lifted in the air and was brought in front of her. The first few pages flipped, and upon encountering thick blocks of text, the pages settled on the table. The marker lifted and started underlining specific words.

As realization of what he was trying to do hit her, she thought this to be a genius idea! Absolutely brilliant!

Arabella leaned over to clearly see the words so that she could read whatever James was underlining.

Been stuck for some time. There is a need to finish some business from before I passed.

"How did you die?" So, this was what it meant when people said ghosts have unfinished business.

Do not laugh, please.

A smile crept to her face and she forcefully pressed both lips together to keep from showing any signs of mirth. "You can't expect me not to laugh when you tell me not to. This is like the Pink Elephant!"

What?

She chuckled again, despite herself. She was having an entertaining conversation with a ghost! "If I tell you not to think of a pink elephant, what will you think of?"

The magazine had limited words, and James couldn't seem to find the word elephant in it.

Pink

"Right. You'd think of a pink elephant even though I said don't think about one just because I mentioned it." She munched on the final bite of toast and eggs, then proceeded to make coffee.

"Well, what is it then?"

The Scrabble tiles rearranged. It was probable that the words he was looking for weren't magazine appropriate.

NUTS KILLED ME

Arabella's gut dropped. She hadn't expected that answer at all and she hadn't expected her reaction to it either.

Arabella was alarmed, concerned and curious all at the same time. His revelation felt like a new acquaintance's casual sharing of a distant memory of a reaction to a peanut allergy, and yet she wanted to make sure that he was okay and also know more.

There was no actual reason to be concerned. This happened in the past, she had to remind herself. "Were you allergic?"

No.

"No?" Now she didn't know what to think. Why would a nut kill him?

CHOKED ON A NUT

"Oh..." As realization dawned on Arabella, she couldn't help but feel pity for the man. His death was one of the most anticlimactic endings that she had ever heard of.

His life ended because he choked on a nut.

If she weren't talking to the ghost himself, this material would have been good for a stand-up.

The magazine flipped again, and James underlined a few words that had an interesting message. It took a few moments for Arabella to decode it.

"Recreate the activity before passing? Is that what you're trying to say?"

Quite.

"You mean the activity that you didn't finish because you died? That's what you want to do?" She paused, looking incredulous, and then clarified further, "This is your favor?"

James started encircling letters and words to make her understand better.

AM A SIMPLE MAN.

That was his unfinished business? No scorned lover to avenge? No sworn vendetta against a nemesis? Hollywood had been lying to us all along!

"I'm sorry to snoop, but weren't you heartbroken?" There must be a deeper reason, any reason at all!

That medium is a liar.

James proceeded to tear off the sheet from the magazine and start on a new one.

Help me.

"How do I help you?"

James then used the tiles from the Scrabble box and formed the words: BUY GROCERIES.

Buy groceries? Arabella stared at it for a while, the corners of her mouth pulling up in a smile. Was he being serious? Do ghosts need to eat?

She thought about it longer, and the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous it sounded.

James was asking her to buy groceries so that he could fulfill his unfinished business?

He needed her help to buy groceries.

Buy. Groceries.

A roar of laughter erupted in her chest, and she started laughing so uncontrollably that tears sprung from her eyes. She sat on one of the chairs, hunched and clutching her belly as she allowed the giggles to vibrate through her body. What on earth is going on right now?

The bouts of laughter were interrupted by her heavy heaving as she tried to catch her breath and calm down. Arabella hadn't had a good laugh like that since she started preparing for her move to NYC. Maybe James would be a good companion after all.

She peeked at the magazine and saw that he had already underlined the next message while she was busy laughing her face off.

I told you not to laugh.

"Oh..." A goofy smile hung freely as her eyes crinkled in delight. "I didn't mean to mock you, so sorry, James."

Arabella took the marker and pad and made a show of taking notes. She poised herself as if standing as a waiter waiting attentively for a customer's order.

Cocking her hips to the side, she leaned heavily on one leg, her elbows tightly beside her waist as she balanced the pad on her palm. "What will you be having, sir?"

That is the problem. I cannot recreate what is not remembered.

"You forgot?" He needed to complete whatever activity he had been doing before he died, but he had forgotten what that was?

Boy, it felt like they were going around in circles.

Was cooking. Do not know what.

A realization dawned on her: even as the activity was clear, there were thousands of recipes that he could have prepared. Without a clue in sight, Arabella might become a ghost herself by the time James guessed this correctly!

In fact, there was no assurance that he would even guess it by then.

Arabella had the sinking feeling that James might have been around longer than she assumed. She hadn't consciously assumed anything about him really, but she guessed that he might have been around for 20-30 years? That would be long enough to forget important details like this.

She set the marker and pad down on the table and placed her hands on her hips. "James, how long have you been stuck?"

Far too long.

Arabella swallowed. This is not the kind of afterlife that they advertised in religions, and she wasn't sure if this was something to look forward to. No one knows how one dies, and if one dies unexpectedly, like say, by choking on a nut, you could get stuck for centuries!

"How old are you?"

32

"And you have been 32 for how long?"

I don't know

Troubled by the new information, Arabella took the marker and notepad back in her hand and decided to just change the topic. "If you accomplish this activity, to cook the dish that you were making before you choked on a nut, then you would finally get to go to heaven?"

Yes.

After a beat, Maybe.

"Good Lord. Okay, let's do it then!" Her main task was to buy groceries for the man to cook. Seems simple enough. "What am I buying?"

Bright red circles filled the page. What do you like to eat?

Huh?

"You're asking me?" And she paused as she thought about all the wasted food if James wouldn't be eating any of it.

"I find it very sad that you can't eat," Arabella muttered her thoughts, as James flipped through the magazine for inspiration.

"I can't cook," she blurted out and the pages stopped flying around, as if James was surprised at her revelation.

It was an embarrassing confession, but Arabella felt that it was an important detail to mention. "I can bake cupcakes, but I could never cook. So, you will be alone in this. I can shop for basic items, but you will have to do everything."

Yes

Arabella nodded and proceeded to list down essentials to stock her pantry. Faintly, she could hear the tiles clicking on the Scrabble board. She peeked to see what James had been up to and discovered a pleasantly startling proposition.

I COOK AND CLEAN. YOU EAT.

"Perfect." She smiled upon reading the words. "You're perfect James, you're like my personal assistant."

NO, YOU'RE MY ASSISTANT.

Arabella chuckled at that and closed her pad, but James wasn't done.

SHAKE ON THE DEAL?

Was he asking for a handshake? Her brows furrowed in confusion as she pocketed the list of ingredients.

A cabinet opened and an oven mitt fell out.

This man was a genius! Had she said this in the last hour?

The mitt floated to her, leveled a little higher than where she would place her hand if he was a person, and it waited for her to make contact.

Her cold hand was perfectly enclosed in the warmth of the thick oven mitt. They gave it a little shake and formalized their agreement.

Even as James remained invisible to her, Arabella felt that this skin-to-mitt action had meant something more than just grocery shopping.

————
A/N: Hi everyone! This is possibly one of the longest, if not the longest, chapter in this novella. I had wanted to establish the immediate connection and chemistry between the two despite obvious hindrances.

How did I do? Do you think Scrabble and the magazine helped? I felt that the magnets were too tedious as there was only 1 set of the alphabet while scrabble had multiple copies of the more commonly used letters.

Did you find it difficult to follow the conversation? If the words are in all-caps and italicized, that means James is using the Scrabble tiles. If the words are in a regular case and italicized, that means James is either encircling or underlining the words from a magazine or any paper with printed text.

Thanks! Your feedback will be appreciated :)

If you like the chapter, please consider giving it a vote! Thank you so much!

UPDATES: This was edited on May 4, 2020. Thanks for all your feedback! :)